It's called Holiday Madness

I’ve been thinking for DAYS what to write about, and I haven’t come up with a SINGLE thing to write about, so let me just tell you what’s been going with me. I’ve been sooo excited about Christmas (no idea why) that when Christmas ended, I just went on with my caroling forgetting ALL about new year, so now that new year is here, I have absolutely NO idea what to do, and I’m used to outrageous celebration on the 31st of December, I mean my parents and I stay up till 12, say, “Happy New Year!!” and then, we go to bed! It’s quite a riot (insert silly face here->). But I guess it doesn’t matter much to me how I celebrate New Year’s Eve, so long as I stick to my tradition of making a silly resolution, that I usually don’t keep. Last year it was to put on my left sock first every time I got ready for school. Being the jobless nut I am, I stuck to it until March, when I finally got tired of it. I have no idea what I should resolve to do this year, but then again, I never know until late night.

Anyway, now that we’re all in the ‘Hopeful-New-Year’ Spirit, here’s a little limerick- sort of thing I wrote-

To all those with a teensy bit of fear,

I say- Don’t you worry, my dear(s),

2011 is going to be a good year.

Silly right? I know, I'm just glad I was able to write SOMETHING, despite my writer's block,for some reason it's not going away, and if you're a writer you'll probably understand how annoying it is, if you're not, let me try to explain this blessed experience to you: Imagine that a thin, long thorn entered your hand, and whatever you do, you can't get it out, it bothers you when you eat, it bothers you when you sleep. You can't do anything but wait, and wait until you come up with a new idea that works. that's how writer's block is, you've got to find a new cure for it each time. Anyway, all's well that ends well,right? Oh, and have an Amazing Year Ahead!!

A world though my window

Through my window I see,
A different scene every day,
Below a beautiful tree,

I see a shed,
That was once a shop, but now,
An old lady sits there instead.

Some days the tree is yellow,
and other days the old lady sits below it,
with a winnow.

Many more trees,
Capture my eye,
As they rock in the breeze,

People walk by frequently-
a groups of school girls i see,
with a bunch of boys following devotedly,

Many people pass by every day,
And I find it strange,
That none notice these trees as they sway,

These are the things I love so,
the beautiful, perfect world,
outside my window.

Motorcycle Diaries

Riding a scooter symbolizes the beginning of a new phase in our lives.The purr of the engine is like a fanfare of trumpets heralding a queen. To me, it means freedom and power, responsibility and seriousness.Whatever be the emotions attached to the bike, it is undeniable that your first riding lesson is one of those special 'First's, right up there with first friend and first crush. So let me tell you a little about my first lesson.

It was clear, bright, slightly chilly morning. At a 7 am, my dad and I took the scooter to a secluded network of small roads.Malleswaram, being a sleepy neighborhood was almost devoid of human life. May dad and I got off and he taught me about the mechanisms of the bike. As I started up the engine, I could feel its power like an untamed rocket that I could barely control. As I rode it around, and slowly got the hang of it, making a left turn here and a u-turn there, I could feel my father's tension rising, his nervousness was obvious from the way he kept yelling instructions at me and the shaky tone of his voice. But I guess I was good, for at the end of an uneventful hour,he surprisingly decided I could drive us home. Of course the moment he started to trust me, I just had to do something wrong. What happened is that he wanted me to stop at the newsstand, but I stopped six feet away, right behind a parked auto. So, I restarted the bike and tried to turn away from the auto, but I had cut it way too close and we ended up bruising our legs. As if that wasn't enough, the tree that was supposed to be on the other side of the road, was suddenly much too close for comfort. "Brake! Brake!" yelled my father, hysterically, but as luck would have it, I pulled the throttle before the brake, giving a 'smashing' end to our ordeal.

Later that day, showing off my 'Spoils of war ' to my friends, all I could think about was how I had been terribly lucky, and how I'd never forget that moment with my dad.

The little note

This was actually a short story I had posted a long time back, but somehow half of it got deleted, so here it is,rewritten-
Little Andy looked nervously around the playground.He was new to town and hadn't met anyone as young as him yet.On the ground,he saw some big kids playing with a ball,there were also girls his age, building sandcastles,but there were no boys at all...except for one.
This boy was Tim,and none of his friends had come to the park with him,so he was looking for someone to play with.As he looked around the playground,he saw a shy shy boy, who looked his age.
Tim went up to Andy."What's your name?",he asked,curiously."I'm Andy",came the answer."Hi Andy,I'm Tim. Shall we play?",asked Tim. Andy nodded and then thy were playing and laughing and having fun like they known each other all their life.

Ten years later:
Both the boys had reached the turbulent age of fourteen.But Andy had moved away a year ago. Although they had promised to stay close, it had not worked.
Tim was waiting anxiously for Andy to arrive. His family had finally moved back! But Tim was not anxious with excitement, it was a kind of anxious fear, a fear that his friend might not be the same as before.
Waiting outside for the door to open,Andy felt the same way. Nevertheless, he braced himself and entered the house with a fake smile plastered on his face.A moment passed as the two friends stared at each other.The awkwardness was in the air, almost palpable. Hasty 'Hello's were exchanged, but the tension didn't ease. Suddenly, Andy had an idea,he got a piece of paper, quickly wrote something on it and handed it to Tim, with a happy grin on his face. As Tim read the note, his smile became wider and wider until he nodded. The two boys then ran outside and started to play, just like they used to, laughing and teasing, all awkwardness and anxiety completely forgotten. Tim's mother had been watching all this. She became curious about the note. She picked it up from the place where Tim had dropped it . It read- Hi Tim, I'm Andy. It's been a long time, shall we play?

Unearthly visitor

My day had been very bad, I was upset. It all began when I woke up late,I was late for school, and then followed a series of events, so misfortunate, I cannot even BEGIN to explain them.When I went to bed that night,I was still sad.But,when I was asleep, I dreamt,I dreamt of a vividly dressed extra-terrestrial friend, who who told told me of wondrous places, buildings so high that they were cloaked in clouds,beasts so terrifying and magical that they couldn't possibly exist. She spoke to me of all the times that she had felt sad, and how things had always turned out well, she said that if on her poisonous planet, where jealousy and envy,took on entirely different meanings,things could turn out well,then it would definitely turn out well here, on my planet too.Her words gave me hope,and I realized how silly I had been,to let one bad day get me down. She spoke to me a little while longer,and then, she left.But just before leaving,she gave me a pen, not very futuristic, I know, but she told me it was a communication device. And that was the end of my dream.I slept peacefully after that.The next morning,I woke up feeling fresh and well-rested(at the right time-thank god!) As I got up, and looked around,I realized I had something in my fist.I opened it,and there sat a pen. Hmmmm.... I wonder, what if I click it.....

Moving Day!!

As I sit amidst all these packing boxes, I recollect yesterday. You see, we just moved back to our old house, which we had renovated, so I like to call it our ‘new-old house’. Anyway, yesterday, when I woke up, preparations were already underway. My dad, ever the late packer, was almost done with his cupboard and my mom was trying to fit the whole kitchen into a single cardboard box. I was assigned the job of eating my breakfast and finishing up with my room.
I had finished packing my room two before, thanks to my mother’s frequent reminders that we were moving soon-really, that woman would make a good alarm clock-and for the past week I had literally been camping in my own house, practicing ‘Leave No Trace’ with utmost care. Whatever came out of my backpack, went right back in without so much as a clue that it ever left the bag.
Anyway, thanks to all this meticulousness on my part, I finished up with my room within half an hour (phew!). Then, I went to help my dad. Now my dad isn’t really one of those super-organized types, he doesn’t really have much time for it. So, I guess my help was quite welcome. Just as we taped the last piece of bubble wrap into place, the doorbell, the tempo truck that would take all our stuff was here!
It sounded to me like the battle cry of a primitive army, sounding the end of the end. In came the infantry and stood in a line, they surveyed the carnage they had to clear, without time they got right to it and about 2 and a half hours and 15 buckets of perspiration later, the truck left with our house in its cavernous belly, as my mom and I were left with a seemingly empty house, although in our eyes, it was full of memories.

The Spider Of Swan Lake- an ode to my leg

The two spiders crept out of the house,
long before dawn to meet the ballet mouse,
one was big, all purple and grey,
the other, smaller,blue like the bay,
with the mouse they danced,
and moved as though entranced,
but when twirling,the little spider,
got tangled and landed in a bottle of cider,
she felt some pain in her leg,
saw that it had been broken,and sat by a peg
although she was in obvious discomfort,
she did her best to look unhurt,
the ballet mouse kindly helped her,
by bandaging her leg with fur,
so ends her ballet career,
so small was her leg, as was her swan lake tenure.
                                                  by Anna Narayanan

Hello!!

Hi! I'm Anna,an average person,lost in cyberspace who is bored with life. I recently injured my leg, and the inactivity is literally KILLING me, so I decided it was time for me to start that blog that I've been mening to for such a long time. So here it is.